


Draco and Harry Discover the Secrets of the Universe

by Nataska



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Domestic Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Marijuana, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nataska/pseuds/Nataska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy couldn’t be farther apart on the social scale in their public school. But when their paths cross unexpectedly one evening their lives become intertwined in ways they couldn’t have foreseen. </p><p>(I’m not good at summaries and I apologize. Also, first ever fic! Hooray! *silently spreads confetti everywhere, but not balloons, ‘cause they’re loud*) Also, also, if you like this please throw a kudos or comment my way, I appreciate it :) AND if you really sort of like it, you should consider becoming my beta, because I’m looking for one – over and out *drops mic* (And lastly also, the POV changes from chapter to chapter - you'll figure it out :))</p><p>Title is from the novel 'Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe', by Benjamin Alire Sáenz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Salvation (Harry's POV)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so, my first EVER fanfic, and I’m nervous as shit. Please be kind. Or not. Constructive criticism, maybe? Anyway, this story isn’t complete yet, but I sort of have an idea where it’s going. Comments/kudos are deeply appreciated, and thank you for taking time out of your day to read! :) Also, this is currently 6½ chapters in, and I will be posting the next one in a day or two. Also, also, I’m rating it teen up, but some explicit parts may or may not happen, so it might change later.  
> This chapter takes place on the 7th of August, 2015.

Harry pulled the rim of his leather jacket closer to his neck while taking a drag of a home rolled cigarette. He exhaled. He was wearing sturdy military grade boots and black jeans with holes and chains in them. His leather jacket which was fit for a biker a did a good job protecting him from the biting wind. The rain was coming down hard, and from where he was standing under the overhang at the back of the gym building it was almost impossible to hear anything over it. Almost. What sounded like footsteps in the rain far-off gradually seemed closer. He listened intently. Yes, someone was running towards his hiding place fast. Klask. Klask. Harry threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground where it extinguished itself without a sound over the heavy rain. Klask. Klask. Klask! A blonde figure absolutely drenched threw himself opposite Harry’s wall, painting harshly with his head held down. He looked up and immediately stopped breathing. _Enemy_ , Harry’s insides screamed at him as he held perfectly still, a half rolled cigarette between his fingers. The boys looked at each other. A few seconds in perfect silence dragged on for an eternity, and then the sounds came rushing back to both of them. The weather was getting worse. Malfoy started breathing again.

“Potter,” he said with an air of haunting indifference.

Harry looked up from where he was rolling the fag between his fingers. Their eyes met again.

“Yes, Malfoy?” Harry retorted matching Malfoy’s indifferent tone. He was wearing a casual dark grey suit that seemed to be completely ruined by the rain from where Harry was looking, and it also couldn’t protect him from the elements very well. Malfoy was standing at the other wall of the overhang opposite Harry, he opened his mouth, but was interrupted by noises coming from where Malfoy had run from.

“Dracooo! Dracokins!”, “I know you’re there, Malfoy!”, and: “Baby, come on out!” A few different voices could be heard shouting and coming closer and closer to the two boys’ hiding place.

Malfoy froze, a deer-in-headlights look about him that would have been funny to Harry had he not gone completely ashen at the sound of the voices calling out to him. Harry looked at Malfoy, really looked at him. Past his drenched clothes and perfect hair out of place, there was something incredibly young about him just then. He looked like a child, a scared one.

“Baby, where you at?” A fake high voice called out even closer to them now followed by helpless giggling. Harry had made his decision. In one flurry of movement he reached across the alley, grabbed Malfoy’s arm and pulled him out of the way and behind a dumpster on Malfoy’s side of the alley. Malfoy flailed around and fell down hard behind the huge industrial dumpster. Harry kicked Malfoy’s legs out of the line of sight, leaned back, lit his smoke, and exhaled just as the cronies were running around the corner.

“Ew, a Potter,” one of them said. Harry couldn’t be arsed to learn their names. (That was a lie, he knew their names.)

“Potter. What are you doing here?” Nott asked in his usual snide tone reserved for everyone beneath him, which in his eyes were everyone. _They haven’t noticed Malfoy crouched behind the overstuffed dumpster. Small mercy’s._

“What’s it to you? Man you guys are _soaked_.” Harry replied in what he prayed to God was a bored voice.

“Don’t play games, Potter, have you seen him?” The smart one cut across him. (It was the girl. Parkinson.)

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Draco?” Parkinson snarled at him.

“Uhm, no, why?”

“Because we’re looking for him. Idiot.” Harry rolled his eyes at them.

“Yeah whatever. Good luck finding anyone outside in this weather.”

“He’s right. It’s raining.”

“Yes, thank you Goyle for that astute observation. Now, let’s go look in the changing rooms. Theo?” Parkinson asked in a commanding tone of voice.

“Sure,” Nott replied his teeth flashing at Harry before he turned around to lead their group away from the overhang.

“A-what?” Harry heard Goyle ask Crabbe as they walked away. Harry snorted. After a while the noise from the group disappeared and Harry looked down directly across from him to find Draco Malfoy sitting in what appeared to be old cake, hugging his knees. He looked up at Harry and their eyes caught one other.

“So…” Malfoy said trailing of.

“So,” Harry replied. He put his hand down looking Malfoy in the eye. A few moments passed between them before Malfoy grabbed his hand and with it hauled himself back to his feet. He exhaled loudly as his back hit the wall behind him.

“I think I fooled them, but I can never tell from Nott’s face. His bluff is too fucking good, and I—”

“What do you want?”

“Huh?”

“For helping me, Potter. What do you want?” Harry frowned.

“A blowjob?”

“What!?”

“I’m kidding! Jesus Christ,” Harry said while putting his hands up, “kids these days…”

“I knew you were a fag, but oh my God, Potter,” Malfoy said still clearly shaken.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny” Harry pulled out his baggie and started rolling one out. The weather was easing up, maybe he could chance it. “Do you want one?” He asked after a bit holding the rolled up cigarette between two fingers for Malfoy to take, another one behind his ear. Malfoy sighed: “sure. Why not.”

Harry passed the fag to Malfoy. They smoked in silence for a while.

“You should probably leave,” Harry proposed after a time. Malfoy looked at him.

“Before they figure out I was fucking with them,” Harry clarified.

The weather had eased up completely now, even the wind had almost wholly stopped. The two boys looked at each other in silence. Harry didn’t want to be the one who broke it again.

“I lost my ride,” Malfoy finally answered airily. Harry threw the butt of the cigarette next to the dumpster and stepped on it.

“You want one?”

“What?”

“Come on. I’ll drive you.” Malfoy looked stricken. Harry pushed off the wall and started walking towards the car park next to the school.

“You coming or not?” Harry paused while looking over his shoulder at Malfoy. Malfoy looked like he fell into the ‘not’ category for a long moment. Then he visible shook himself and started following Harry. They walked in silence the few hundred meters.

 

“You’re kidding,” Malfoy exclaimed when they reached their destination. A large silver-and-black Harley Davidson stood before them and Harry was unhooking the helmet from where it was sitting on the ground attached to the back wheel with a heavy chain.

“Don’t tell me you’re being a pussy?”

“I’ve seen you drive that thing, I should have known… I’m not getting on that, you don’t even have a spare helmet,” Malfoy answered Harry firmly.

“You can have the helmet, it’ll be fine,” Harry stated calmly while passing the heavy helmet to Malfoy.

“What, do you have a death wish?” Malfoy exclaimed when he reluctantly accepted the helmet from Harry.

“Come on, where’s you sense of adventure?” Harry smirked at Malfoy. He looked more than unsure standing there with the helmet in his hands.

“You better hurry, I can hear them yelling from behind the gym,” Harry said and sat himself across the bike and turned it on.

That seemed to settle matters for Malfoy. He put on the helmet and turned towards Harry. Harry was still smirking and revved up the bike breaking the calm feeling of the air just after rainfall. Harry patted the seat behind him while loudly saying: “get on,” in order to be heard over the roar of the bike. Malfoy complied.

“Hold on to me if you don’t want to fall,” Harry declared after a moment of Malfoy not touching him.

Malfoy scoffed at him. Harry turned in his seat and threw up the visor of Malfoy’s helmet.

“You know, you can’t catch the gay, it’s something you have to wish for, for it to become true. Like a unicorn, or a dream about a certain special someone.”

“The fuck you on about?” Malfoy nervously uttered in response. Harry ignored him and took Malfoy’s hands and put them securely around his waist.

“Hold on tight!” Harry yelled over the roar of the engine as he started backing out of the lot.

“…ter!” Someone yelled a way back.

“You know,” Harry turned round in his seat and yelled at Malfoy, “if you really want to stick it to them, now’s your chance!”

“What. I mean how?” Malfoy yelled back.

“I don’t know, but maybe the two-fingered salute?” Harry suggested. Malfoy turned in his seat, still with his hands clasped around Harry’s middle. Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were unmistakably running towards them with something like a mixture of anger and unbelievable-ness on their faces. Malfoy turned back towards Harry and yelled: “let her rip!” Harry let go of the brakes and the vehicle started moving slowly towards the exit of the school. Malfoy turned in his seat, and still with one arm securely around Harry’s middle he raised his other arm and with two fingers saluted his ex-friends. The unlikely match sped out of the school grounds to shouts and whistles coming from those Malfoy, until very recently, called his trusted allies.


	2. Sleeping at the Enemy's (Draco's POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go lovelies! I figured that I'm probably going to post once a week, to get into the flow of it. This chapter in particular has a warning for marijuana use, so read with care. Anyway, this is from Draco's POV and takes place on Friday the 7th of August, 2015.

They pulled up at an impressive looking house, with big windows and a façade in a matte black design. It reminded Draco of the slightly bigger mansion he grew up in, down in Oxford.

“You live here?” Draco asked in an astonished tone of voice.

“Um, yes?” Potter answered.

“Well, why the… Why the leather jacket and the piercings though? If you live here?”

Potter looked at him for a moment, then shook his head looking away. “Still the same, huh, Malfoy?” Before Draco could retort Potter pointed at the door to the house connecting the garage they had parked in, and said: “come on, get inside.”

Draco took off the helmet and followed Potter up the stairs to the door. For the life of him he could not figure out why. Why had he allowed Potter to drive him? Why had he allowed him to invite him into his house? _I must be going mental. Maybe Potter-ness IS catching_. He followed Potter through the door with all the intention of getting the hell out of there, when a delicious smell assaulted his nose.

“I’m home!” Potter yelled towards where the smell of food was coming from. He was pulling off his worn-down boots while looking at Draco.

“You can put your jacket and boots there next to the rest,” Potter told Draco while pulling of his wet leather jacket and hanging it up. There were shoes and coats in all sizes lining the entrance hall. 

“They’re not boots, they’re Italian leather,” Draco retorted. Potter rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Malfoy.”

“Hi love, how was your day?” an impeccable man in a casual suit rounded the corner to what was surely the kitchen. He had a mixing bowl in hand and pleasant smile on his face. “Oh, you brought company?” the smiling man said when his eyes fell on Draco.

“Yeah, this is … uh, Draco?” Potter responded unsurely.

“Oh. Well does ‘uh, Draco’ want to stay for dinner?” The annoyingly still smiling man, _he must be Potter’s dad_ , asked Draco.

“Uh, I suppose,” Draco answered looking at Potter who, obviously, looked as uncertain as Draco fell.

“Great, I’m making enough for everyone then. We’ll eat at seven.” A loud wail of a child started up somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen where Potter’s dad had come from and he now quickly walked towards.

“Where’s your mom?” Draco asked after the wailing had stopped and replaced by what could only be described as a cooing sound.

“There’s isn’t one,” Potter answered with a raised eyebrow, challenging Draco to say something. Draco didn’t. Which was unlike his usual self, especially what concerned his usual self and Potter.

“Okay,” Draco answered and Potter seemed as surprised with the easy acceptance as Draco felt himself.

“Right,” Potter said. A beat. “Do you want to see my room?”

“Sure,” Draco answered and they climbed the massive staircase starting in the middle of the entrance hall with Potter leading the way.

 

Inside Potter’s room, which was on the third door on the left next to “the upper floor bathroom,” as Potter put it, Draco had a look around. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that the room was nice, open, but still somehow remained cosy and nothing at all like what he imagined Potter would live. Not that he had spent time imagining Potter and his living arrangements, it was just, a thought.

“This is nice,” Draco’s mouth articulated before his brain had caught up with him. A stupid thought obviously. Potter was looking at him like one might look at a strange animal one expected to attack at any moment. Git.

“You alright?” Potter asked surprisingly gently.

“Wow, Potter, I didn’t know you cared,” his sarcastic tone was back. Much safer.

“I don’t. Git.” _Two minds, one thought. Shut up._

Potter walked across the room and opened the window next to the bed and sat himself in the wide windowsill. He had pulled the baggie with the smokes he had stuffed into his trousers up and was rolling another. Draco walked up to him and gazed out the window. It was a surprisingly calm afternoon when he thought about where he was and who he was with. _Enemy_ , his mind supplied him. Potter was still his enemy, don’t trust him.

“You want to borrow some clothes while we put yours in the washer?” Potter asked him licking closed his rolled cigarette and eyeing Draco’s ruined suit.

“I, yes,” Draco answered.

“Great. Strip,” Potter declared at Draco. He had hopped down from the windowsill and was rummaging through his closet, presumably for something for Draco to wear.

A look of horror crossed Draco’s face, and Potter burst out loud laughing when he turned around with some sweats, a t-shirt and a hoodie in his hands.

“God,” he chuckled: “you really are too easy.”

“Fuck of,” Draco took the offered clothes from Potter hands and went to the bathroom to change Potter’s laugh ringing in his ears.

 

“We got a few hours to kill before dinner. What do you want to do?” Potter asked him when he came back from the bathroom.

“What do you propose?” Draco returned, his eyes focused on Potter’s fingers deftly rolling up yet another fag.

“Hm, video games and weed? No, maybe the weed after dinner, my Ta hates it when I smoke.”

“You have weed?” Potter winked at him. For Christ sakes.

“I am a man of many talents,” Potter replied holding out the fag to Draco: “here, I’ll find some video games to beat you in.”

“You wish.”

 

Dinner went surprisingly well. Apart from the fact that Potter had not one, but two dads. And the second one seemed… full of personality one might say. Their introduction went a little like this:

_“Hello, I’m captain…”_

_“No!” Potter and the other dad, Mr. Ianto Jones he told Draco his name was when the boys had come down for dinner, yelled in sync._

_“I was just saying hello,” the other dad said disgruntledly._

_“For you that’s flirting,” Mr. Jones replied sternly, but there was a sense of love in his voice. Potter looked like this had happened one too many times before. He also rolled his eyes._

_Potter’s other dad, the captain something, sighed, but winked at Draco behind his husband’s and childrens’ back. Draco felt unsettled to say the least._

“Are you staying the night, Draco?” Mr. Jones asked him while they were all enjoying the delicious meal of chicken and vegetables he had prepared for them. They were all gathered round a big table in the dining room, Potter and Draco next to each other. They had been the only available places when the boys had finally come down for dinner, the other ones occupied by Potter’s dads and his siblings, Carmichael and Elizabeth. Elizabeth, or “Lizzie” as the majority of the household called her were the youngest, and Carmichael the middle. There was something off about him, but Draco couldn’t place his finger on it. Besides, he figured it be way too impolite to ask, his good breeding told him. So he settled down for his dinner in silence (The household seemed keen enough to talk about their day as it were). That was, until Mr. Jones addressed him.

“I… I don’t know,” Draco answered while looking towards Potter, but Potter had the same slightly baffled expression as he had on his face.

“Do you want to call your parents and check with them?” Mr. Jones askes gently.

“I… sure” Draco replied. “I’ll call after dinner. It is very delicious, Mr. Jones.”

“Please, call me Ianto, I’m not that old. Yet,” Mr. Jones smiled at Draco.

 

Draco didn’t get a hold of his parents, which wasn’t surprising, but he talked to the housekeeper who promised to let his parents know that he was staying at Harry’s. Actually, they probably thought that he was with Pansy, Theo or Blaise, he didn’t correct the housekeeper when she assumed he was still with his friends. Whatever. It’s not like they cared a lot about him. Mostly, it was just “get good grades” and “don’t fall behind” and “pick your friends with care” from them. Right. That last one he was still trying to figure out.

“So, what are we watching?” Potter was lying on his back on the big double bed throwing a baseball up and down and catching it.

“I don’t know, something to go with the weed?” Draco suggested from his vantage point on the sill fiddling with the smokes.

“You. Are not who I thought you were, prep boy,” Potter had a smirk on his face when he responded. He rolled out of bed and went to his closet.

“Get on the bed. Trust me, you wanna lay down for this.”

“You better keep your hands to yourself,” Draco vaguely threatened while getting on the bed. Potter snorted, and replied: “trust me, what you’re selling, I ain’t buying.”

_Rude_. “Rude.”

“Yeah, well, I have a type–” Potter started. He had found what he was looking for and was climbing onto the bed next to Draco with a rolled up joint.

“–and it’s not you?” Draco finished. Potter lighted the joint and passed it onto Draco.

“I like my people to be pleasant. So yeah, not you,” Potter finally answered in an exhale that blew all the smoke from his lungs into the room and out the still open window.

“Rude again. How long before this stuff starts to work anyway?”

“Give it 5-10 minutes. And hey, easy, it’s a bit strong.”

“I think I can handle it,” Draco answered and sucked in a big mouthful that he held for a long time before exhaling, and finally felt the beginnings to relaxation. His mind growing distinctly foggier and foggier he kept passing the joint back and forth between him and Potter. When he recalled the situation later, he didn’t remember what they talked about, but he remembered the pleasantness coursing through him while they talked.

 

_I can’t handle it_. “I can’t handle it. Potter.”

“I know. Just try to relax, it’ll pass,” Potter’s voice was coming from somewhere near him.

“I’m gonna hurl,” Draco said in a strained voice.

“I know mate, that’s why there’s a bucket in front of you.”

“There’s a bucket?”

“Man, you really are stoned,” Potter started giggling. Loudly.

“’S not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“Sh’ up.”

“The great Draco Malfoy. With his head between his legs and a stick up his arse,” Potter was full on laughing now.

“I’ll murder you,” Draco spit into the bucket.

“Why don’t you stick two fingers down your throat?” Potter said after he calmed down a bit: “You’ll feel loads better after.”

“’M not a’ a’orexic 14-year old.”

“No, you just look that way,” Draco could tell Potter was smirking even without looking at him. Again. _What a prick_.

“I swear t’ God I’…” a deeply unsettling sound of vomit finally came from Draco. Potter turned the other way.

“Kill you. Kill you with fire,” Draco coughed out when he got his breath back.

“Alright, Daenerys, calm down,” Potter was rubbing Draco’s back soothingly: “feel better?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Here, have some water.”

The room was silent while Draco drunk his water.

“Are you filming me or something?” Draco asked breaking the silence.

“What? No.”

“Then what’s your angle?”

“My angle?”

“You know, why are you being nice to me?”

“Because it was my weed that made you sick? And maybe I’m just a nice person, did you consider that?”

“No.”

Potter sighed: “whatever, Malfoy, let’s watch a movie or something, I’ve got the munchies.” He stood up taking the bucket with him to clean it.

 

They settled on _Get Him to the Greek_ , “because it’s fucking hilarious” (Potter’s words) and Draco could not stop giggling throughout that bit with the furry walls. He might still be a little on the high side. He laughed so loudly Potter couldn’t help laughing at him, and that only made it worse.

“Oh my God, furry walls! This movie is amazing!”

“Glad you like it, mate” They were munching on some crisps Potter had found downstairs. After the whole vomit business Potter had dug out a toothbrush for Draco. _He’s being surprisingly kind to me. Who’d figured? And that’s the second time he called me mate_.

 

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened today? Between you and those idiots?” They were lying down, Potter on his bed and Draco on the air mattress next to it. Potter’s voice sounded remarkably loud in the otherwise silent room. They’d spent most of the night watching movies and playing games on Potter’s X-box, on which Potter had absolutely annihilated Draco in Super Mario Brothers. It felt uncanny to Draco, not automatically insulting Potter whenever he looked at him. A feeling of comradeship had settled between them, and Draco, when thinking about this whole astonishing day spent in the company of a boy he had spent the better part of ten years hating, felt deeply unsettled.

“Don’t mistake us not fighting to suddenly mean that I trust you,” Draco’s sharp voice rang out louder than he had intended.

“Hrmpff. Figures,” Potter said and turned with his back towards Draco. He waited a long while before saying something, and when he did he was afraid that Potter had fallen asleep in the meantime. It was, given not a school night, but still past three in the morning.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Draco said softly and believing in the words. He could almost pretend like Potter hadn’t heard him when he didn’t answer. After a while when Draco heard Potter snoring slightly, he finally closed his eyes and exhaled gently. He could not for the life of him had imagined that this was how his day would turn out, but, in a foreign house in foreign clothes he somehow felt all right. When he finally fell asleep there was a smile on his face.


End file.
